What Can I Do, But Obey?
by addictive-stigmata
Summary: CHAPTER 4 UP! After Valant Gramarye's arrest, he can only take one thing with him. That thing happens to be a notebook. The result is a journal of Valant's days in jail, where he ponders magic, revenge, and the woman he loved. Diary format. Valassa.
1. Prologue: May 1, 2019

A/N: **HUGE SPOILERS ABOUND. **

Valant Gramarye has so little love.

Takes place after Zak's disappearance from the Gramarye trial and Valant's arrest after it.

Suppose Valant took a journal to prison with him. The idea isn't that lofty, so I decided to work with it. Thus, we have a journal of the incarceration of Valant Gramarye, inspired partly by _The Prestige_ and _In The Time of the Butterflies_, the latter of which contains diary chapters where the diary is addressed "little book." I tried not to make this a retelling of what happened, but rather a look into Valant's head, affected by false accusations and the burden of playing second fiddle.

Chapters were meant to be short. I hope you like anyway.

**I Brake For Franzy / AsakiPhreek**

* * *

_Property of: Valant Gramarye  
If Found, Return To:  
GRAMARYE THEATRE AND MUSEUM OF MAGIC  
with original lock and key intact_

**May 1, 2019**

Hello, my pitiful little book. The officers forbade me from taking anything else, so I guess it's just you and I.

You see, they shut me in for my supposed murder of Magnifi Gramarye, alongside tampering with a crime scene - more specifically, the scene of my mentor, Magnifi Gramarye's death. I myself would not call it "tampering," but rather "attempting to reclaim what should have been mine." And I will not mention the murder, simply because the popular belief surrounding me as of late is false. They think I did it. I will admit that I very nearly did, but good will took over and made me drop my weapon. His own hands wrought his demise.

Your pages are for my eyes alone. To them, I would not lie.

Zak Gramarye, my partner in prestidigitation, received the letter before I did. "One shot, square in the forehead." Yes, Magnifi Gramarye told us to kill him. One of us would serve as the stagehand, holding the rope, ready to "lower his life's curtain," as he put it. It is strange, little book, but it is true.

I went into the hospital room with an honest intent to kill the man. Thalassa's mangled body flashed before my eyes as I walked in, my heart pounding. I could not refuse. Magnifi would not let me, and neither would she. What a disgrace it would be if she were unable to see her father again in heaven. Such a kind woman. A beautiful one, too, let me tell you.

But you only have so many pages, little book, and I shall return to the matter at hand. That is a story best saved for another day.

I entered the room, and Magnifi's eyes were shut in a mock slumber. I reached for the pistol - the signature Gramarye Golden Gun, cleaned and polished for this grim occasion - and took aim, ready to give Thalassa her company in the world beyond. But that was not to be. As I said, I dropped my weapon. This roused Magnifi, who proceeded to tell me that I had failed and that Zak had inherited his repertoire of tricks. I left the room only to return to it. Magnifi Gramarye, illusionist to the gods, lay dead, a hole in his head where the bullet had entered and carried his soul away.

I shall not record my reaction here, for there are no words in this language to describe its magnitude. This anger drove me to my sudden crime of "tampering" with the crime scene (or: "taking back what I should have had all along" - ah yes, that's much better.) And Thalassa's face...her figure...it all flooded my mind. Zak had taken everything that was mine. The tricks. The fame. The lady. On top of that, I thought I would let him take the blame, too. However, that's the only thing he returned to me, and this is why I am here.

They may have found me out. But my day shall come. I'll make sure of it.

And if it doesn't, I'll be damned.


	2. May 2, 2019

**May 2, 2019**

Good morning, little book. These prison beds are much less than comfortable. But I'm used to secondhand things, and even more so to sleeping alone.

Last night, I had a dream. It was the same dream I had after the botched rehearsal. In it, I stand backstage, gathering equipment for a new trick, when I hear a gunshot. I walk onstage to find Zak waving one of two pistols used in the Quick-Draw Shootem - mine was holstered at the time - and waiting for me, presumably to tell me something. When he sees me, he throws the gun at the stage, and it clatters across the surface until it reaches Thalassa's lifeless form. He looks at me, smiles, and says: "She's all yours."

I weep. After I wake up, I am still weeping.

I do not know who shot Thalassa. Zak doesn't, either, but one of us has to be the guilty party. In the dream, it was probably my envy of Zak that placed him in the role of killer. It could very well have been me, but I would be best off retaining my ignorance of the matter. Had I known that I shot Thalassa, effectively securing the Troupe Gramarye's fate...

No. Let's not write about this. There are other things to focus on. They are ringing the bell for breakfast, and I shall now take my leave.

_(later)_

The inmates are very easy to please. The simplest magic tricks trigger massive rounds of applause. Why, even the supposed vanishment of a French Dropped coin puts smiles on their faces. I don't know if I should even be trying to please these people, though. An arsonist sat across from me at the breakfast table, and on top of that I was flanked on either side by a killer. These are definitely guilty people, whereas I am merely here on suspicion, on popular belief.

The death row inmates sit on one side, and the "normal" prisoners sit on another. Some prisoners are quarantined to their own tables, possibly from disease or insanity. I have no plans of making any friends here, little book, only you - and another, concealed within your pages. I keep you under my pillow when I sleep, as I will soon, and she is tucked within the warmth of your cover.

In the palm of my hand is a photograph of Thalassa Gramarye, onstage and smiling. Next to her is a pedestal on which a white rabbit is sitting. The officers would have probably allowed this, but it was fitting to put it in the diary, as one puts a deck of tarot cards in a velvet bag, where nothing can harm its energies. I am replacing it within your pages, little book, so that nothing will harm such a precious memory.

My eyelids are growing heavy now, and I put down my pen for today. I shall see you at dawn.


	3. May 3, 2019

**May 3, 2019**

I wake to find two men guarding my cell. Apparently, it was time for questioning, but I wondered why it could not wait until the sleep had been wiped away from my eyes. They led me down the hall anyway.

I did not make the best impression. My hair was knotted and my feet were dirty. Already I could feel stubble growing on my face, and they didn't even give me the opportunity to shave. They told I me I could clean afterwards. I did, later on, but then it was embarrassing.

They asked me why Zak would take the fall for me and pull his vanishing act - they spoke on the popular belief that we were close friends with secrets to hide, to the extent that Zak would disappear in a court of law to cover up my supposed murder. Well, I never did get to tell them the whole truth - yet at the same time, I am not a liar. My mentor's threats haunted me even after my death. When talking with fellow magicians: "No sharing secrets. Your lips are sealed, and you know the reason why." Zak and I cursing over the stray bullet: "What happens on this stage goes nowhere else, and you know the reason why." And, in the letter: "You cannot refuse, and you know the reason why."

The reason. What a beautiful reason she was, and so I kept my mouth shut. The suspicion surrounding me had never cleared, but due to a lack of solid proof, they would not convict me of murder.

They still hadn't heard the truth, however.

* * *

The truth was that Zak was rotten. Of all my woes, it can be said that half of them were wrought upon me by him. The rest of them were wrought upon me by thinking of new ways to get back at him. One such way involved stealing a trace of Thalassa for myself, for he had many - huge traces like Trucy and little traces like jewelry and pictures - and I had none. I chose for myself the locket he wore around his neck.

I loved that locket. That picture of Thalassa exuded a beauty surpassing anything I could see while onstage. It's a shame it was around Zak's neck, and not mine, which may be hanging if the suspicion surrounding me does not clear. Her hair was braided the same way it was during performances, and her lips were parted in a pseudo-kiss. And with eyes like that, she was irresistible. It was her brand of quiet seduction. It was like looking through the clouds to Heaven itself. That's what I was doing. I was cutting myself a little slice of heaven.

Zak never wears the locket for performances, although it wouldn't have been able to be seen anyway. The shirt and cape covered it. He keeps it on his dresser, next to Thalassa's engagement ring, and puts it on when he pleases. When Zak had gone onstage to accompany his daughter in a trick - one of our cuter finales - I rushed into his room and took the locket.

The applause had long since faded, and Thalassa was cleaning the stage when Zak and Trucy came running into my room. "Uncle Valant," said the latter, "Daddy seems to have lost his locket, and we were wondering if you could help us look for it. Please?"

Her eyes were so bright that I couldn't refuse, and thus hatched a plan on the spot: I would simply replace the locket in a curious spot, and we would eventually come across it without much of my input, and from now on, it would be a sneaky matter of taking and replacing the locket between Zak's dressing room and mine. It was simple.

"Why, yes. Anything for a brother in magic and his lovely...ah...daughter...excuse me for just one minute..."

I had hidden the locket inside my glove, and I noticed it sliding from underneath to the visible skin of my arm. I ignored it and it had dropped to the floor. Zak's eyes went livid.

Trucy was amused. "Ooh, _look_, Daddy! There it is! Uncle Valant dropped it right out of thin air!" But a young girl such as she couldn't understand the gravity of the matter, and when she caught sight of the look of horror on my face, she was clueless.

"Uncle Valant, you look a little--"

Zak cut her off. His tone was friendly, but with an undercurrent of malice. "Trucy, I think it's best if you go onstage and help Mommy clean up. Go on, now."

She did, and it was just the two of us. Zak rushed forward and pinned me to the wall, and to say that I was terrified then would be an understatement as large as his arms. His voice was raised to an earth-shattering shout.

"What were you doing with my locket, you son of a--"  
"Look, nothing is as it seems. You should know that. You're a magician, too."

"That picture was taken before we met. Don't think she's not going to hear about this," he threatened me. "I'll make sure she stays far away from you!"

Suddenly, my terror faded, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. How could their relationship be so loving if Zak was so particular as to Thalassa's company? The answer was simple: he wasn't. He had another side to him; a side he only showed to his wife, but one that everybody would benefit from.

"You _knew _I loved her," I said. "You knew it all along. And then you had to go and--"

That's when Zak struck the first fierce blow to my head, and another, and another, hitting my face and torso, determined to beat me to a bloody pulp. I could feel the bruises forming underneath my skin. He swore at me with every punch. I did not move, for I know what karma is, and it will find him someday.

"I know what you want," he said, "and you're not getting it as long as I'm around."

After one final blow, I was on the floor. My eyes opened only to slits. There was blood gushing and pooling inside my mouth, trickling from the corners, and the flow of it from my nostrils made it impossible not to breathe it in. My head swam.

"You try something like that again, and you'll find yourself looking down the barrel of the Gramarye Golden Gun. Now gimme the locket."

I didn't have to give it to him as he had to pry it out of my hand.

Thalassa and Trucy returned, and through my swollen, almost shut eyes I could see Thalassa sobbing. Faintly, she said to Zak: "Was this your doing?"

"Long story, dear," he replied, and wrapped his arm across the small of her back, careful to avoid touching her dress with his bloody gloves, and ushered her gently away. And, before I slipped into unconsciousness, I thought I could see Thalassa Gramarye - my love and The Reason - glance sadly at me, a touch of sympathy in her eyes.

Little book, the pain was excruciating, but Thalassa's sad glance seemed to heal me as well as haunt me. Zak and I have gotten into violent encounters like this more than once, but all of them, including this one, had been covered up in a similar manner to The Reason. "Valant Gramarye has vanished, but he will return in around a week. Fear not, for that's Gramarye magic - like no other!" All in all, it took several weeks to heal, although I was finally onstage again, but not without a mortal enemy.

Oh, Thalassa. If they hang me by the neck, will they save me a seat next to you?

Please do ponder that, love, as I put my pen down in preparation for another restless sleep.


	4. May 4, 2019

**May 4, 2019**

There are so many flies in this place, little book. I'll have to resort to hiding you, lest I find one crushed between your pages. This wouldn't matter so much if the defenseless creatures weren't so much like my beloved, struck down by a stray bullet like an insect struck down by an ignorant hand.

(I know I am comparing Thalassa to a fly. Of all things! I will probably reread this entry and find it hilarious. Besides, my head is falling apart in this place, and by the time I leave, coherent sentences like this would be impossible feats in themselves. That's why I have you, little book. To remember the magic of the past and to slow the decay of my dying mind.)

But that seemingly ridiculous metaphor is a preface to another story, not quite as grim as the last, much to my relief and most likely yours - yet still a grave tale in itself.

Did you know that you can force a fly to hibernate? I have known this for a long time. Simply place it in a glass of ice, put this glass in a freezer, and it will sleep like an infant. (Very strange - when I'm cold, I tend merely to shiver.) And yet, it is just as easy to wake it! I can merely take the insect in my hands, turn it over several times, and it will respond to the warmth, take a moment to collect its bearings, and take flight once more.

Oh, magicians are cruel beings. They freeze and burn, tear and maim, saw and stab. One thinks he knows their motives - he does not. And yet, they somehow have the ability to make things right in the end. Everything is back to the way it was. It was as if the magician had never touched it.

This was not the case in the Troupe Gramarye. Zak had taken Thalassa for his wife, and she concieved a child through him. He cannot undo that move, can he? He cannot cover Trucy with a sheet and vanish her with it, can he? Could he forget the diamond Thalassa wore? The smile on her face? The feel of her soft lips, her tender skin, the thin fingers on her lovely little hands...?

Oh, my thoughts are taking over again, and the flies are gathering in the far corner.

Which reminds me.

When I saw the blood running from Thalassa's eyes like tears, staining the stage with its redness, I was certain it was over. She wept. I wept. Zak was in another room, and he wept, too. He was on the phone with a 911 dispatcher.

I knelt next to her, trying to seize this last moment, wanting to confess my love, no matter how grim the circumstances may have seemed. She was almost gone. I wrapped my arms around her, taking care not to cause further injury. I sobbed into the folds of her dress. She smelled of roses, perfume, and Zak.

"Thalassa, breathe," I urged her. "Please. Breathe. For me?"

She opened her eyes and stared at me in surprise. "Valant?" She then added: "Where is Zak?"

"He's getting an ambulance. Hang on. Help is on the way."

"Oh...good..." Her voice was quavering, and the blood was running. I didn't care. I leaned in close to her, wanting this last moment with her. "I'm not going to die," she said. "I'm stronger than that. Gramaryes don't die, you see. They just...disappear..."

She was breathing hard now, and I could hear the struggle in her voice. She was determined. And yet, just when I was about to open my mouth, she uttered the unexpected.

"I always felt so bad for you, Valant. But now...I can see..." She took a deep, raspy breath. "You are at my side...I'm so proud of you."

Proud? I thought she was crazy. I had nothing to be proud of, really. Zak had always been the better magician, and on top of that, he had Thalassa. He married her, loved her, had a child with her. I had been standing in the shadows, waiting for my moment. I never had it. And still, she admired me. I questioned her. "What do I have to be proud of?"

"Oh, Valant," she began, "you have your own kind of magic. My father was growing confused in his senility, and he didn't see your talent. But I did. I wanted him to keep you here. You kept us together...and now I'm going to tear us apart...I didn't want it to end like this. I didn't..."

And that's when I leaned in even closer, wanting to kiss her, hold her, heal all her hurts and patch up every wound. This was it. "Thalassa...I want to tell you something..."

And, at that moment, her breathing slowed, and she grew silent. A smile spread across her suddenly tranquil face. "I know," she whispered. "I know you do." Ah, that gift of perception.

She allowed me one soft kiss before she finally fell into the void. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before, probably because of the circumstances. It was short, because she went limp in my arms, the fly going into its permanent hibernation, the glass of ice crushing it forever - or so it would seem. Just then, Zak came onto the stage, wanting me to wait for the ambulance with him. It came and carried her away. They pronounced her dead on arrival, but revived her a short time later. This was in the hospital, when Zak was making funeral arrangements and not believing any hopeful word anyone offered him.

Zak never knew of her revival. I did. Did this make me guilty? Yes, a little. But I harbor no such feelings now. I wanted to give him the blame. He placed it right back in my gloved hands. Remember what I said about magicians making ends meet? Oh, it will happen soon. I shall put this vicious cycle back together, and the snake will eat his own tail.

I know I will see her again one day.

* * *

_The fly trick is real. I saw it on a show one day and couldn't help but incorporate it here. I don't like this chapter as much as I like the others, but eh, it was pretty fun to write anyway._

_11.1.09_


End file.
